


Seek Shelter from the Storm

by cloverfield



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: CLAMPkink, Good Old Fashioned Closeted Fun, M/M, NSFW, Not Actually In Narnia, Post-Series, Valentine's Day Event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverfield/pseuds/cloverfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a ninja, always a ninja, and let it never be said that Fai does not approve of tactical exploitation of their surrounds for strategic purposes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seek Shelter from the Storm

“We don’t--  _mmm_ , we don’t have time for,  _hah_ , this,” mumbles Fai, and evidently his Kuro-sama disagrees, because there is a warm hand palming the arch of his hipbone, callused fingers tracing the line between waistband and skin and trailing beneath heavy cotton with admirable insistence.  
  
“There’s always,” says Kurogane, lips finding the slope of his neck beneath his ear and following it down to his jaw, trailing slow and hot and just a little bit wet ( _he’d licked his lips earlier, hair soaked from the rain outside and dripping water down his face, and Fai had to fight not to chase each trembling droplet from dusky skin with the tip of his tongue_) where they parted against his pulse and _sucked_ , “time for  _this_ , mage.”  
  
“Perhaps,” groans Fai, gaining several syllables and a handful of vowels as those rough fingertips pluck idly at the fastenings of his slacks. His back meets unyielding wall. “But in a,  _nnh_ , wardrobe?  _Really?_ ”  
  
“Mm,” says Kurogane, and then nothing else for several long moments, mouth a hot smear downwards and teeth scraping so, so gently against the hollow that trembles at the base of his throat. Before he can think to stop it ( _not that he would even try, oh, he knows his weakness now and no more seeks to hide it_ ), his own hand rises to cradle the back of Kurogane’s head, fingers twisting to the root in dark, damp hair and nails scraping against scalp. “A wardrobe?” comes the murmur, words an appreciative rumble against his skin, and one knee presses firmly between Fai’s legs, forcing his thighs to part and Fai himself to ride upwards. “That where this is?”  
  
He’s not surprised Kurogane has paid little attention to their surroundings, apart from noting entry points and exit points and possibility of ambush in the quick cursory glance he gives to every space they enter- there are so many years between them now that he can see those thoughts ticking away as red eyes flick in assessment over wood and stone and metal, no matter which world holds them. Once a ninja, always a ninja, and let it never be said that Fai does not approve of tactical exploitation of their surrounds for strategic purposes.  
  
Like when Kurogane had grabbed him by the hips and marched him through the nearest doorway, shoving aside the heavy curtains of fabric that hung here with a careless hand and crowding him up against the wall even as cloaks and coats closed ranks behind them. Their world was small and dark, hidden from sight; the joyful chaos summer’s first thunderstorm had brought to Clow -the streets filled with delighted crowds, open faces tipped to the sky as rain fell and hands held high in supplication- gave as good an alibi as any to slip away from the celebrations and back to the palace.  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” and if it comes out a hiss ( _breathless, thoughtless, desperate_) it’s out of frustration alone as a broad palm skims the heavy swelling of his groin in a branding caress. Blood pools hot in his belly, a twisting throb in his gut- that fleeting touch is not enough, and Fai makes this known by pulling, fingers seizing tight and twisting in Kurogane’s hair. His lover growls now, the sound stroking down Fai’s spine as sure as any touch, and one heavy hand  _thump_ s against brick beside his head with a force that speaks of metal bones beneath synthetic skin.   
  
Fai doesn’t jump, and meets red eyes glare for glare. “Don’t tease,” he says flatly, because they really  _don’t_  have the time for this; as thick with rain as the air is now, they cannot count on the weather to hold forever, and sooner or later they will be discovered. Not that anyone would be surprised, exactly, to find them here, but, well. Some things are theirs and theirs alone, and the soft burr of Kurogane’s laughter as his hands find their way to cloth ties and pull with the casual ease of someone who has unfastened these clothes many times before is one thing Fai will not share.

“Alright,” says Kurogane, still laughing ( _his grin wide, his teeth white; his gaze many things, and all of them hungry_ ) as he sinks to his knees. There is no warning for the sudden, wet stripe licked down the flat of Fai’s exposed stomach, tongue snaking quick and hot into the dip of his navel, and when teeth catch his skin and scrape down, down as Kurogane’s hands rise up to curl about the back of his thighs ( _fingers bruising, sweet pressure against muscle pulling taut_ ) and hold him still, Fai bites the back of his own wrist to stop the groan building in his throat.  
  
He lifts his hips obligingly when Kurogane tugs, grabbing handfuls of cloth and pulling until his slacks slide down, inch by slow inch; the tip of Kurogane’s nose traces the crease of his thigh, a warm breath huffed against skin that prickles with anticipation, and Fai’s head smacks against the wall with a dull  _thunk_ , his hair catching in the grain of the stone when Kurogane licks a broad stripe over the fabric of his loincloth. “Nnh,” says Fai, and when Kurogane’s teeth catch on the cloth that binds him ( _tight, too tight, too hot beneath the press and tease of lips and tongue_ ) to tug it free with apparent ease, he can’t stop the needy little noise that makes its way up his throat at the cool slide of humid air over his aching loins.  
  
One big hand uncurls from the back of his leg, slides around to his knee, yanks down the tangle of clothes that wrap his legs and jerks them further apart; Fai jolts and slips down the wall a little, scraping his back against the rough stone behind him. His mouth opens on a soft curse which bleeds into a startled, throaty moan when Kurogane bites him on the inside of his thigh, teeth sinking in just so; barely-wet hair brushes gently over skin damp with sweat and the slick that comes before sex, and his lover makes a noise of utter satisfaction deep in his throat, rumbling into Fai where that bite catches the muscle trembling in his thigh. “Oh,  _fuck_ ,” Fai groans, free hand slapping the wall and fingernails scraping at the bricks; Kurogane grins up at him, on his knees and pleased to be so, and his smile is all teeth and  _heat_.  
  
“Later,” murmurs his lover, lips tracing soft over the dampness of Fai’s skin. “You can fuck me later, when the rain stops. I want this  _now_.” He takes it too, no warning as his tongue swipes hot and firm in a broad wet lick upwards, and the hand curled in soft hair trembles as Fai gives voice to a strangled gasp that wants to be a shout. “Quiet,” Kurogane snorts, easing back to take a breath- but before Fai can counter with something like  _oh, and which one of us exactly got us moved to a separate wing of the palace last time we were here, hmm?_  Kurogane draws him in with lips and tongue, and anything he might have said whispers through his teeth in a sigh.  
  
Strong arms bear him up even as his legs buckle; muscle and steel alike taking his weight with ease as Fai shudders helplessly, melting beneath the heat that surges through him with every slow, wet stroke. Gods only know his knees can’t bear the strain, and so he presses his body into the wall as best he can, trusting in the strength of the man who kneels before him and in the hands that hold him in their tight grip.  
  
( _he knows now to never doubt these hands and their hold on him_ )  
  
Kurogane is in no hurry here, despite Fai’s earlier insistence they don’t have the time to linger, and when he glances down he finds those sharp eyes focused on his face with such intensity his breath catches urgent in his throat. Before, he could not have met that gaze- before, he would have turned away and laughed, desperately throwing up walls just as quickly as Kurogane tore them down.

But that was then, and this is  _now_ , and Fai does not look away. Now he lets the hand that presses over his mouth fall, lets it find its way to Kurogane’s face; his fingers tremble their way across his forehead, trace the shell of his ear, curl under the jut of his jaw- and when those burning eyes narrow wickedly and Kurogane’s cheeks hollow in sudden sweet suction, there is nothing Fai can do to stop the cry that wrenches free of his throat.  
  
His hands fall to Kurogane’s shoulders, clawing at damp cloth and the iron-hard muscle beneath; his voice rises, clear and aching in his chest, and stars burst in fractured flickers of light before his eyes as Kurogane presses forward, draws him deeper, deeper, pushing and  _pushing_  until the glorious wet heat of his fluttering throat wrings tight around Fai with every purposeful swallow. He can’t look away, not now, and Fai knows his mouth has fallen slack and his chest is heaving for air in breathless, desperate gulps; air that whistles down his throat to fuel the fire that smoulders in his belly, twisting tighter and deeper and fiercer as the seconds blur by, and it’s only when the corners of Kurogane’s eyes crinkle softly with what could be laughter that Fai knows it’s not long at all before he bursts into flame.  
  
Kurogane chuckles, low in his throat, rumbling through his chest and Fai gasps; his eyes slam shut and the world ( _their  world, small and dark and utterly theirs, the world held in the hands that curl about his legs like vines and in the much-loved fall of those eyes upon his face_) is blotted out in ruddy darkness, his pulse roaring in his ears and his heartbeat a thunderstorm trapped in the heaving cage of his ribs. He can’t hold on, and his Kuro-sama wouldn’t want him to- wants anything but control and masks and the desperation that comes from hiding everything you ever were, and so Fai gives in, gives it up; lets pleasure take him over, and the sharp-sweet shock of it crashes down like a thunderclap, ringing in his blood as it surges through him in a wave from top to toe to sweep him away.  
  
He comes back to himself in slow stages: the roughness of brick through rain-damp cloth, the tangles in his hair that catch and pull on stone; the tight curl of his hands upon strong shoulders, where Kurogane’s arms are still holding him steady until his legs can bear his weight once more. Gently, gently, Kurogane eases back, and the silky glide of his tongue is exquisite torture, the kind that Fai can’t get enough of, and a tiny, strangled gasp fills his throat as his lover laps at slick, sensitive skin. “ _Enough_ , oh please,” mumbles Fai, barely able to open his eyes; the pleading tone of his voice is not something he can control. Kurogane grins, the angles of his mouth sharp and perfect, and presses his lips to the crest of Fai’s hip.  
  
“Alright,” he says, voice thick and deliciously rough, and if there is anything Fai loves more than that sound it’s the gravelly chuckle that Kurogane makes as he stands, slow, big hot hands smoothing up Fai’s legs to cradle his hips and hold him steady. Kurogane kisses him, once on the throat, once on the mouth- hot and salty and  _perfect_ , and when Fai hums a sigh into the slow parting of their lips, he knows he is not the only one content.  
  
When Kurogane pulls back, his brow is creased in thought, head cocked idly towards the doorway, hidden behind ranks of coats and cloaks. “The rain’s stopped,” he murmurs, and Fai’s hands slide down from his shoulders to the small of his back as he listens for the sound and finds nothing. For a moment, they linger like this, curling into each other until Fai’s breath steadies and the heat of Kurogane’s body bleeds warmth through his trembling frame, and when he is still and calm it’s easy to raise himself up the smallest distance on tip-toes and press a kiss to the curl of Kurogane’s grinning mouth.  
  
“So it has,” sighs Fai, and would not help the wickedness that warms his voice even if he could. “I suppose you’d better take me to bed, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am a very, very lucky lady to have two glorious fanart fills for this piece:
> 
> [This one](http://kitten-kin.tumblr.com/post/79574070475/happy-white-day-this-is-fanart-for-seek-shelter) from the lovely Kitten, and [this one](http://phebesketchs.tumblr.com/post/79595335636/happy-white-day-this-fanart-is-based-on-seek) from the equally lovely Phebesketches. Gosh I love this fandom.


End file.
